


You Still Haunt Me

by extremelyperturbed



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Drama, Ghost Hannibal, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:39:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2954276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extremelyperturbed/pseuds/extremelyperturbed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Done in response to this kinkmeme:  Hannibal is executed or dies in a hail of bullets but his ghost finds an attractive, wealthy man to inhabit and uses his body to court Will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They had already given him a shot to sedate him while he was in his cell. They did not want him to try to escape while being transported to the execution chamber. They had taken care to tie him to the gurney so his arms and legs are bound securely. He was again wearing the face mask that kept him from using his teeth to express his displeasure. He was sad that he was not allowed to wear one of his tailored suits. Perhaps they would allow him to wear one when he was being buried in a cemetery. They probably had an unmarked plot because anything with a headstone would be sure to draw a steady stream of gawkers and addled fans.

He was wheeled towards his inevitable doom. He knew that the vehicle he was being transported in was accompanied by several unmarked police cars. They wanted no last minute escape to embarrass them. They would have him dead, whether by injection or bullets. Most people would not care which.

On the way there, he briefly wondered if the new combination of drugs they planned to use for the execution would actually work or whether he would be forced to do this again. It had become hard recently to find a company willing to sell drugs for this express purpose, even for him. He found the idea of him gasping and moaning and thrashing in pain to be a little humiliating even if it exposed the officials as utter incompetents.

The only allure that the execution chamber had was the possibility of a certain witness appearing. If he was to die, then he wanted to see Will’s face again. He knew that this desire was not likely to reciprocated but he felt that Will would like to finally see his reckoning finally come.

He was finally put into the chamber and the curtains were parted to reveal the witnesses which included, to his distaste, Freddie Lounds. She looked incredibly giddy, holding her notebook and pen. Presumably, they had taken away any sort of electronic device to keep her from taking pictures. He noticed that Jack was not there, probably too busy with taking care of his wife, who was in the final throes of her illness. Jimmy Price nor Brian Zeller were not there. However, in the last row, there was Will Graham looking directly at him with a stony expression.

As the execution team found a vein in his arm and inserted the needle, Hannibal felt strangely gladdened that Will was there, even if he was there to cheer on the execution. He wanted his face to be the last image he beheld as the final curtain was drawn on his life. He felt gratified that there was a tear going down Will’s face before he closed his own eyes. 

***  
He had had no real expectation of an afterlife. As much as he liked to imagine a cruel God who enjoyed toying with and torturing men as much as nasty boys loved taking bugs and either pulling off their legs or seeing what a sunbeam concentrated through a magnifying glass could do, he had no strong belief in a Heaven or Hell. 

However, he found being an unmolested spirit to be the most unexpected outcome of all. He found himself looking at his body as the execution team declared him dead and put a cloth over his face. He watched as Freddie ran up to Will Graham and demanded an interview regarding how he felt now that his infamous nemesis was dead. He tried to push Freddie away from Will only to find that his fingers went right through her, unnoticed. 

He walked away from the prison and found himself in the open for the first time since he had been imprisoned. While he did not have the physical body to breathe in the fresh air or feel the coolness of the night, he could appreciate having a full view of the stars. 

He smiled to himself, thinking how utterly disappointed his many victims would be that he was not being tortured in a lake of fire by some red horned man with a goatee and a pitchfork. If only he could communicate to them this one little fact, it would utterly spoil their peace of mind and crush their one hope of real justice.

***  
A few months later, the euphoria of continued existence had long faded. He was unable to interact with the people he once knew. He had gone to Bella’s bedside to see if he could contact her since she was growing ever closer to death. He had even been there when she died. Instead of her death creating an unattached spirit, there had been a flash of light only he could see and then she was gone. He was not entirely sure if she had gone someplace else or had merely disintegrated. 

It was like that with other patients in the hospice. He decided to go to the places where there had been traumatic death. The first place had been his former house, which was empty not only of furniture but of presences. He went to his former hunting grounds and . . . Nothing. He even went to places reputed to be haunted only to find nothing there.

He also found he could not kill or taste or do many of the things he enjoyed doing. While he could travel around the world and enjoy the sights, he could not draw them except in his mind palace. All he could do was watch as people slowly stopped talking about him and their attention passed to the next major disaster in the news cycle. Even Freddie Lounds had found another serial killer to flog on her blog.


	2. Chapter 2

He went back to Wolf Trap. Even if he could not do anything else, he felt sure that he would enjoy watching Will doing what he did best. However, he found a “For Sale” sign on the front yard. The house was empty of Will's things and his dogs were nowhere in sight, which meant that he must have moved away. Hannibal cursed himself for the folly of having been away long enough for Will to have fled the area and not leave a trace of where he had gone.

Who would know where he is now, thought Hannibal. He briefly considered Jack but Jack had taken administrative leave to take care of his wife a year before her death and was now consumed with grief. As obsessive as Jack was about justice, part of the passion for it had been a displaced need to conquer death. Now that Bella had died, the drive had been crushed. Will Graham would be the furthest person from his mind now.

Hannibal smiled as he recalled one other person who had been almost as obsessed with Will as Jack. Freddie, he thought. If she didn’t know, she had the means to find out. However, his smiled faded as he realized that even she did know, he had no means to force her to divulge that information. 

An idea came to him. He had not been able to touch or move anything but he had not yet tried to possess someone. He found the idea slightly distasteful but knew that possessions could be temporary. He had no intention of being inside Freddie on a permanent basis.

When he went into the house, he found her at her computer, writing yet another real crime potboiler to pay her bills. He put his hands over hers and let them sink into her then did the same with her arms before closing his eyes and trying to sink into her body. 

When he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting in the chair. He moved the hands that had been typing on the computer. He could feel himself smiling. He closed the document she had been working on and noticed that there was a little file folder icon on the screen with the initials “WG.” He clicked on it and saw that it had Will’s new home address and phone number along with a lot of rather nasty speculation about his sudden resignation from the FBI. 

He quietly put the file folder into the Recycle Bin icon. He was about to click on the icon to delete the file when his hand suddenly froze on him. He realized then that Freddie had gotten over the initial shock of possession and was now trying to regain control of her body. The body began to shake as if it was having a violent seizure. Froth and shrieks began coming out of her mouth. 

Hannibal abandoned her body, which promptly fell out of the chair and unto the floor. As sour as losing control over her body had been, possession had worked. And while in her body, he had experienced the senses of touch, sight and hearing. It had been full possession, not just pulling the strings like a puppeteer. 

If I can find a body to possess that doesn’t have a soul fighting me for control, I could be alive again. Hannibal thought about it further. But it won’t do to just choose any body. I need a body that suits my needs, one without a past that would get in my way, a body that . . . 

“Will . . .” moaned Freddie.

Yes, thought Hannibal. He has to be taken into consideration as well.

***  
Hannibal grimaced as he went through a session of physical rehabilitation but did not complain. He knew he had to get into better shape before he could fully regain the life he had lost. However, even pain seemed bittersweet in that it was proof that he was alive in a body he could use. 

In a New York hospital, he had found a man in his late twenties in a coma with a non-existent or completely dormant personality or soul. Besides a skull fracture that had caused some swelling of the brain that had subsided, there was not much damage to the body. The man had been in that state for less than half a year. After leaving the hospital, he had found someone napping on the train, and temporarily entered his body so he could use his laptop to do some research on the patient. He was pleased to find that the man did not appear to have a record nor a reputation for bad or foolish behavior even after combing through various social media. 

The patient’s name was Tom Hansen, a man whose parents had died in a car accident when he was thirteen. He had been raised by an uncle, who had sent him to boarding school then college. Fortunately, his parents had been well-off and had life insurance policies. His uncle, the trustee, had not squandered the estate for his own purposes and had given everything to him when he was of age. He had become even wealthier by being a savvy angel investor and cashing out options when a friend’s IPO went big. The accident that had landed him in the hospital involved skiing.

Nurses and doctors buzzed around his bed once they realized that his eyes opening was a conscious decision. The local news and online heralded his body’s awakening. Though there was disappointment that the man had few memories other than his name and a handful of facts about himself, they were glad that there seemed to be no cognitive deficits nor any problems with his senses. 

Even before the accident, Tom and his uncle hadn’t been that close, which served Hannibal’s purposes. After reassuring the uncle that he would have attendants to help at home while in rehabilitation, the uncle had gone back to his place on the Hamptons. As for Tom’s friends, Hannibal noted that people tended to disappear when one has a long illness and the few people who did show up, he quietly discouraged by explaining that his memory problems were such that he had little in common with his former self and he wanted to concentrate on getting better.

“Ok, you’re done for today,” said the therapist. 

“How is my progress?”

“You’re ahead of schedule.”

***  
“I was wondering if I could buy you a drink,” said Hannibal as he sat down next to his target at the bar.

“I . . .”

“Do you like beer or are you more of a scotch or whiskey person?”

What would appear to be a casual encounter to an outside observer was actually something akin to a war campaign. During his rehabilitation, Hannibal had hired a private investigator to confirm the phone and address of Freddie’s information file, then asked him to see what Will did over the course of a couple of months. It seemed that Will lived on a houseboat, fished, volunteered at the local animal shelter, and had a small store that specialized in fishing gear. He also occasionally went to a certain bar where he would go when in the mood for a one-night stand. Nothing longer or more serious would come from those encounters. In the report, the investigator also described the type of man Will would go home with. Hannibal had smiled at the description.


	3. Chapter 3

He had bought a tailored suit but not plaid as he didn’t want to remind Will too strongly of his former self. Even his accessories were somewhat subdued. He did not slick back his hair but just used a little styling mouse. He had taken care to train himself so he was just as fit as he had been in his former body. He had managed to get approval to have rehabilitation to hammer his tongue into sounding American, which frankly had been the hardest part. If he slipped, he knew he could claim that the coma had given him foreign accent syndrome, a rare but actual medical condition that he could point to.

This was the first time that he had seen Will up close since his execution. Will was still a beautiful man though the pain and damage from the past several years were apparent to someone observant. However, those two things made Will more beautiful to him. Will no longer wore glasses and retained some of the more stylish fashions he had picked up while seducing him in Baltimore then chasing him in Europe. 

“I’m a whiskey fan,” said Will. 

“I’m Tom Hansen.”

“I’m Will Smith,” said Will.

“You don’t look like him,” said Hannibal, referring to the actor.

Will smiled at that. “I’ve heard that before.”

“I hope the whiskey makes up for the triteness.”

“It better,” said Will, but there was no grumpiness in his voice. 

Hannibal turned to the bartender and said, “Give him a shot of the best whiskey that you have. I‘ll take care of it. Also give me a glass of the same.”

“I’ve never seen you here before.”

“It’s my first time here. I just moved here..” 

“How do you like it so far?”

Hannibal let his gaze slowly inch its way up from Will’s waist to his eyes. “I like it very much.”

The bartender handed them each a glass.

As he sipped his whiskey, he wanted to ask Will why he changed his name. He wanted to know if Will was trying to hide from Freddie, the FBI, the ghouls who loved tracking down anything connected to the Chesapeake Ripper or from himself. He restrained himself because he was nowhere near as intimate with him as he needed to be to ask that kind of question. For now, he would just enjoy seeing Will relax around him for the first time in a very long time.

***  
“You’ve got a nice house,” said Will as he took off his jacket, put it on the coat rack and slipped off his shoes. 

Hannibal shut the door, took off his shoes next to Will’s, put his jacket on the same coat rack and loosened his tie. “Thank you.” He had to leave everything behind when he escaped to Europe. For the new house, Hannibal had hired an interior decorator and given her a set of very specific parameters but a very generous budget. He was gratified when the decorator had given him his money’s worth. He put his hands on Will’s shoulders and kissed Will, whose lips were warm and welcoming. He sighed with pleasure when he smelled a delightful cologne mixed with the warmth musky smell that was Will’s. 

He pushed him against the wall and kissed him, this time their tongues sliding against each other. He had longed for this in Europe, the years that he was in prison and the months he had spent in limbo. As much as he had imagined Will’s presence and body in his mind palace countless times, there was nothing like having the real person moaning and sighing in between kisses, wafts of the smell of their mutual arousal that came as clothes were shed, and the feel of Will’s hands on his back, pulling him close. The fact that Will had been sleeping with other men after his death just made him want to claim him back even more. 

“How about we continue this in the bedroom?” said Will. “Wherever it is . . .”

“Of course,” said Hannibal as he led him there. 

As Will fell back on the bed, he said, “What do you want to do? I’m pretty versatile.”

“Do you mind if I top?”

“That’s fine with me. But if we‘re going any further, I need you to . . .” Will held out a condom packet.

“Of course.” 

Will opened his other hand and revealed he was holding several lube packets. “Let me get myself prepared,” he said by way of explanation.

Hannibal realized that Will didn’t expect much from the men who picked him up other than the most perfunctory fuck. Hannibal couldn’t help but feel disgusted at the men who didn’t realize what had been offered them. “Let me do the honors,” he said, holding out his hand.

Will hesitated before giving him the packets. Hannibal gave him a reassuring smile. Will lay down on his stomach. Hannibal opened one and poured the contents on his fingers. It was transparent and slick. He used his index finger to slowly work Will open while using his left hand to caress Will’s back. “How does it feel?”

“It feels good.”

Hannibal drizzled kisses down Will’s spine while working in one then two more fingers. He knew that he had an edge over any stranger because he knew things about Will’s body that they couldn’t, places that would drive Will wild and places that did nothing but irritate him. “Turn over, I want to see your face.”

After Hannibal took his fingers out, Will turned on his back as requested. Hannibal stood on his knees while putting the lubricated condom on his erect cock. “I want to see your face when you come.”

He saw the scar across Will’s stomach and felt him stiffen when he touched it Of course, he thought, he doesn’t want any questions about it, he thought. Hannibal pushed Will's knees apart and up. Hannibal thought about how vulnerable Will was with his head back, his hands above his head and offering him entrance into the deepest part of himself. Hannibal let out a shaky breath. Seeing Will like this affected him the same way a diva singing coloratura did, the same way looking at a Rembrandt did. It touched the closest thing he had to a soul. He took that offering and slowly slid in, burying himself as much as he could. 

He kissed Will’s lips, jaw, neck while his hands ran through his hair and traced every inch of his body he could touch while his hips thrust over and over again, driving him again and again into ecstasy. “Will . . .”

Will put his arms around him and pulled him closer. “Han . . .” 

Hannibal’s eyes opened and he saw Will turn his head and bite his lip. Does he still think of me . . . And during something like this? Hannibal thought. The very idea made him come harder than he ever had with anybody else. “Will!”

***  
Hannibal put the apple pancake into the oven then put the kettle on the stove to make coffee. He was contemplating if he should cook some bacon or ham when he saw Will walk out of the bedroom, naked. “I’m making breakfast. I hope you like apple pancakes.”

“It smells good but . . .”

The kettle whistled and Hannibal poured the hot water over the grounds in the filter cone of the coffee maker after shutting off the range. “There’s coffee too. I’m also going to make a melon and pineapple salad as well. Is something wrong?”

“Do you do this with everyone you have over?”

“I like being hospitable. Would you like some bacon or ham?”

“No, I think the pancake and the fruit salad will be enough.” 

Hannibal could tell the appetizing smell was breaking down Will’s resistance to staying. “Your clothes are on the chair.”

“You folded them.”

“Yes. Do you like cream and sugar?”

“I usually drink it black.”

Hannibal enjoyed watching Will put on the clothes he had on last night. He had considered washing them but felt it would feel a little presumptive. He quickly sliced up the fruits and divided the pieces into two bowls, which he put on the table. He put two cups of coffee as well as two place settings on the table as well. He smiled as Will took a sip and plainly savored it. 

He took a sip from his own cup. 

“I didn’t mean to stay this long but I fell asleep,” said Will.

“Don’t apologize. I take it as a sign that I did very well.”

Will chuckled. He took a fork and began eating the fruit salad. 

The timer buzzed, letting Hannibal know that the apple pancake was done cooking. The large round pancake was cut into slices and he put a slice each on two places. Putting them on the table, he put the plates on the table. “It’s still hot.”

“Smells great,” said Will.


	4. Chapter 4

As Will was eating the pancake, Hannibal said, “About last night . . .”

“No.”

Hannibal was surprised and not in a pleasant way. “I hadn’t even finished . . .”

“You were going to ask if you could make this something more than a one night stand, weren’t you?” Will took another bite of the pancake. 

“Something along those lines . . .”

“I know that you saw the scar I have across my stomach . . .”

“I did notice but I didn’t want to pry . . .”

“An ex gave it to me. He’s dead now but I still have a lot of baggage that I’m not sure you or anybody in their right mind would like to deal with..”

“Everybody has baggage. I have my own.”

“An ex-wife or two . . . Kids? Jail time for embezzlement?”

Hannibal smiled. “I had a skiing accident a while back that put me in a coma. While I’ve gained back use of my body, I don’t have that many memories of my past. I no longer have anything in common with my old acquaintances and most people don’t know how to deal with a blank slate. I know it’s not as painful as what you’ve gone through but there are scars on my scalp if you look carefully. There’s nobody in the world that doesn’t have some sign of trauma.”

“I would think that you could find someone better . . .”

Hannibal knew that Will only saw a young, attractive and wealthy man with no fathomable reason to be interested in a man with a troubled past and a limited future. “I know that I have many material things but it doesn’t make finding someone that much easier. And there’s nothing wrong with you, at least nothing that should keep you from seeking your own happiness. What happened to you shouldn’t have happened.” This was true. If he had to do it over again, things would have turned out differently. Perhaps, they would have been in Europe these past years instead of Hannibal having to use the body of coma patient for another attempt to put the teacup together. “At the very least, let me give you my number in case you change your mind.” Hannibal printed his name and number on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

Will took it and put it in his pocket before standing up. “I had a really good time. I wish I had met you earlier.”

Hannibal also stood up from the table. “I think you wouldn’t have liked who I was earlier. You’ve met me the person I am now. That’s what matters.” 

Hannibal accompanied Will to the door. “Just one more thing.”

“What?”

Hannibal put his hands on each side of Will’s face and kissed him. “Just keep me in mind.”

Will gave him a smile but said nothing.  
***  
Hannibal tried to keep himself occupied while waiting for Will to call him back. It was one of the few times he actually missed being a psychiatrist. If one was fortunate to have a patient like Randall Tier or Margo Verger or Bella Crawford, one could find people with whom conversations were worth having and whose actions were of interest. He found that there were museums, performing arts centers and restaurants that were just as good as if not better than Baltimore. He had already bought a few tickets to events that would help him set up a social circle he wound find useful and entertaining. He had a pool in the backyard so he could continue to strengthen his body. At night, however, he would go to bed, stroking himself to thoughts of Will and could only come by saying his name. 

He wanted to call Will, to go to his houseboat and surprise him with a thermos of hot coffee and plastic containers with pastries, but managed to restrain himself. He would allow himself to go to the bar and see if Will would again appear on Saturday, but the thought that the night he had spent with Will would be his first and his last and that Will would instead hook up with another man tried his patience. But the past few years had taught him nothing if not patience and he would wait. As a last resort, he could go to Will’s shop and pretend that it was serendipitous for him to have walked into that precise shop. However, he knew that coming on too strong too early would spook Will at this point, making his possession of the body almost worthless. 

His waiting was rewarded when he received a call on Friday night. He had been listening to a recording of the Queen of the Night’s aria in Mozart’s Magic Flute when his phone rang. He immediately put the stereo on pause to pick it up. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Will. Do you remember me?”

“Of course, I remember you. I was hoping you would call.”

“I was wondering if . . .”

“I could meet you at the same bar if you . . .”

“I was thinking about dinner.”

That's even better, thought Hannibal. “I would like that.”

“Is there anything that you don’t like to eat?”

“I’m not allergic to anything and I’m an adventurous eater.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. How about I pick you up at seven? I’ll need your address again.”

“Of course.” Hannibal gave him the address. “I’m glad you called.”

“I almost didn’t but . . . Just don’t be afraid to tell me if it’s way too heavy for you. I won’t be insulted.”

“Why don’t we have dinner first before worrying about such things?” Hannibal was already thinking about what to wear and what to make for breakfast the next day if Will stayed over again that night. He also began thinking of where he could take Will on the date after that. Before, they had never had a conventional relationship of going out and seeing each other openly. As much as he enjoyed going out with Will to crime scenes and discussing them in a way he could never had done with anybody else during their therapy sessions, he had missed many of the things one could do while pursuing an open relationship. He had never taken Will to the opera or taken him dancing or even gone to a museum together. There were so many things to rectify. A thrill went through his soul at the endless possibilities.

“Uh, yeah sure. So . . . I’ll see you then. Bye.”

“Bye, Will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's a very short chapter. The next chapter should be longer. 
> 
> The performance he is listening to is this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2ODfuMMyss I do think the aria's lyrics are ones that he would love & understand. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Der_H%C3%B6lle_Rache_kocht_in_meinem_Herzen


	5. Chapter 5

“Peruvian.” Hannibal said as he opened the restaurant’s menu which had a page devoted to explaining the cuisine. 

“You don’t like it,” said Will, who was sitting across from him.

“No, actually I find it intriguing,” said Hannibal. Part of what he loved about Will was how often he found him surprising. He noticed a strong emphasis on fish, corn and potatoes in the menu though there were also beef and chicken dishes.

Will smiled. “Their specialties are ceviches,” he said, referring to fish that was “cooked” by being marinated in lemon or lime juice, whose acidity changed the texture of the fish.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The waiter came by. “There are no specials today. Everything is on the menu. Would you like to order something to drink?”

“I’ll just have a Pisco sour,” said Will.

“I will have a glass of the Malbec,” said Hannibal as he pointed out the deep, red wine on their wine list. He then noticed a dish that immediately made him salivate.

“An excellent choice,” said the waiter. “Would you like to order your entrees now?”

“I will have a ceviche mixto as an appetizer,” said Will. “I would also like to have the corvina.”

“I will have the Corazon.”

Will glanced at the menu. “That’s . . . beef heart . . .”

“I just wanted to try it.” Hannibal cursed himself for reflexively going for offal. He couldn’t afford to scare Will off at this juncture. 

“Just curious,” said Will, though he seemed a little subdued.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go to a museum or maybe a play sometime.”

“I’d like that though I’m not a big fan of modern art.”

“I’m not, either. I hope you don’t like skiing because I no longer do for obvious reasons,” said Hannibal, referring to the accident that nearly killed his body. 

“Nope, I’m all about the fishing.”

“I don’t remember going fishing. Perhaps you could teach me.”

“Sure, I’d love to.”

“Let me guess, not a dancer?”

“Not much of one. And you?”

“I can manage in a pinch but wouldn’t mind improving. Perhaps we should take a few classes together, learn the tango.” Hannibal had actually been quite the dancer but he had not as of yet trained the new body and dance lessons sounded like something that they could share. 

“Hmm.”

Hannibal saw that Will had relaxed from being disturbed by his entrée choice. The waiter came by and gave each of them their drink. Hannibal was glad to take a sip of his. 

Hannibal wondered when or even if Will would tell him about the time he was Will Graham, not Will Smith. “Did you always own a shop?”

“I . . . No, I used to be a cop. I wasn’t so hot at it. So I cashed in everything and put it into the shop. I . . . don’t really want to talk about the past much, especially during a meal. The kind of cases I was given to investigate . . . You‘d lose your appetite if I were to go into detail.”

“I understand. Homicide?”

“Yes. The details began to seep into my dreams at night to the point I couldn‘t function. I still think of them from time to time. I sometimes think that I did more harm than good. I’m more at peace now.” Will took a sip of his Pisco sour. “I usually drink beer or whiskey but this isn’t bad.”

“It’s always good to try something different.”

The waiter came by and set down a dish. Will’s ceviche was in a what appeared to be a large martini glass. “Would you like some?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Will pushed the dish towards Hannibal. Hannibal took a fork and had a bite of the fish that had been “cooked” in the spicy, acidic mixture. He found it pleasing and well-balanced. “Delicious.”

“Want more?”

“No, but the next time I come here, I shall order it,” said Hannibal as he pushed the glass back towards Will. “Go ahead and eat, I won’t mind.”

“Sure?”

Hannibal nodded. He watched as Will began picking at the mixture in the glass with a fork. 

“You look hungry,” said Will.

“I am but not for food . . . At least not just for food.”

***

“The dinner was wonderful,” said Hannibal as they stood in front of Hannibal’s house after Will had driven him back.

“I’m glad.”

“Won’t you come in for a nightcap?”

“You won’t think worse of me if I put out on the first date?” said Will, smiling.

“Of course not,” said Hannibal. He kissed Will gently and slipped his arms around him, feeling how warm and welcoming the body leaning against him was. He felt giddy and drunk but it wasn’t from the glass of Malbec that he had with his dinner. He didn’t care what a spectacle he was making of himself by expressing his ardor for all to see. “I hope you don’t find doing this out here embarrassing but if you do, then come in.”

“Let‘s go in before the neighbors start poking their heads out.”

Hannibal led him by the hand into the house.

Later that night, Hannibal awoke and looked at the sleeping man next to him. He had never thought that he would ever sleep next to Will, especially not after having him clinging to him and arching his back, then smiling at Hannibal while looking utterly debauched and deliciously tired.

When he had first become a ghost, he had considered taking revenge on Will but once he understood that death would take him forever out of his reach, his desire for vengeance evaporated. A world without Will Graham would be like seeing without color; one could live without it, perhaps even get used to it but so many of the things that brought him joy would be irrevocably diminished by the loss. 

This was the one man who had proven himself over and over again to be his equal. He had traveled all over the world after fleeing Baltimore and no one had excited his fancy or haunted his mind palace so persistently like this man. No, he would do anything to keep Will like this.

***  
“This is your houseboat?” said Hannibal as he stepped unto the boat Will lived on. Unlike other houseboats, it did not look like a floating house but a boat that was large enough to live in. Once he stepped inside, he saw that there was a bedroom that also doubled as a living room, a kitchen and a bathroom. 

“I like it but I know it’s not for everyone. I do have to go to a laundry mat to wash my clothes and you have to pay rent for having your boat here,” said Will. "Then there's having to pump out waste . . ."

“I would have a hard time leaving my garden behind,” said Hannibal. He had put a herb garden in the backyard along with flowers that were edible like marigolds. “I can’t imagine having a pet on board.”

“Well, no, they don’t allow pets in the ships and around the dock because there’s always going to be some dickhead who doesn’t clean up after his pet like he’s supposed to. As much as I’d love to have a dog, it wouldn’t be fair to have one without at least a yard to run around in.”

“Then why live on a boat?”

“I like the idea that if I needed to, I could just sail away from everything. I don’t intend to, I just like knowing that I can.”

“That’s why you volunteer at the animal shelter.”

“Yeah, I used to have a small pack but my work demanded I travel so . . . I hope you don’t get seasick. I have some Dramamine if you need some,” said Will.

Hannibal shook his head. “We’re not on the high seas. I’ll be fine.” 

The phone rang. “Excuse me, it might be from the shop,” said Will. “Hello? How did you get this number? What are you talking about? I know you‘re just trying some new angle for an interview.” Will turned his phone off. “God damn she’s persistent.”

Hannibal could tell that Will looked pissed. “Who is it?” he said, though he was sure he knew who had called.

“Just someone I used to know.”

“An ex?”

Will chuckled. “Oh, definitely not an ex. She used to turn up at the crime scenes, even got in trouble for tromping through them for exclusives.”

That description clinched it for Hannibal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anticuchos Yes, Peruvian cuisine does have a beef heart dish


	6. Chapter 6

He looked at his body and was relieved that his heart continued to beat and his lungs continued to take air in and out in a steady rhythm without his soul animating its mechanism. Just to be sure, he stood there for half an hour, observing it. Finally convinced that his heart wouldn’t flat line while he was away, he let the room around him fade and went to a grey, featureless place that was “in between” before letting the contours of Freddie Lounds’ bedroom come into view. He had discovered this way of traveling when trying to find ways to get from one place to another without having to go through all the pointless drudgery that a person with a material body would have. Hannibal smiled to himself that if he could have had this ability while he was still alive, he would have always had the perfect alibi.

He saw that Freddie was at her desk, typing another load of her usual trash. However, he noticed that unlike last time, she had company. There was a beautiful, curvaceous woman sleeping in the bed. A bottle of sleeping pills on the dresser next to the bed hinted that she had needed help to get some rest. 

Hannibal slipped inside the sleeping woman. He sat up and turned towards Freddie.

“Wendy? Did I wake you?” said Freddie, who had stopped typing when she heard the bed move. 

“No, Ms. Lounds.”

Freddie jumped up from her chair and grabbed her purse from which she pulled out a taser. “Holy fucking shit, it’s you, isn’t it? I knew that it wasn‘t neurological!”

“Now, Freddie, you wouldn’t want to hurt your delightful companion. You use that on her, I’ll just jump out and watch as you have to explain why you used that on her.”

Freddie still held out her taser. “What do you want, Hannibal?”

“I’m curious why you called Will Graham.”

“So, you are haunting him.”

“You were trying to warn him about me and my current situation? Don‘t act the hero, Freddie, it doesn‘t suit you. And why would you warn him? It‘s not like you‘re friends.”

“I’m not calling him because I like him.”

“Then why?”

“I’m not a mind reader but I know you’re up to something bad.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re always up to something bad.”

Hannibal walked towards Freddie, who walked away from him while slowly creeping closer to the bedroom door as if to escape. He picked up a pair of scissors from the pencil holder on her desk. “You are never going to call Will again, talk about him to anybody nor are you to ever write about him again. If you do any of those things, I’ll give you a choice.”

“Choice?”

“You can either kill your friend or your friend can kill you. Which do you prefer?”

“You bastard.”

Hannibal enjoyed seeing Freddie genuinely upset and scared. He had wondered if she could feel anything for anybody else other than herself. “Just imagine Wendy waking up with your blood on her hands, your parts in her stomach, and seeing how I’ve sculpted you right before the cops arrive . . .”

“Shut up!”

“Now imagine her under the sweet and gentle care of Frederick Chilton . . . And don’t think that I won’t visit her from time to time. Maybe she could make a shiv and decide to cut herself out of boredom . . .”

“You’ve got yourself a deal. I will never bother Will Graham again. No letters, no calls, no e-mails, nothing. Just leave her out of this. She’s never done anything to you . . . She doesn‘t know.” 

“She has the bad taste of choosing you as a friend.” Hannibal tapped Wendy’s forehead gently with the pointy end of the scissors before throwing them on the floor. “You know what I am capable of. And remember, nobody will believe you.” 

He hopped out of the body and saw Freddie rush and catch the unconscious woman before she hit the floor.

***  
“Epic of Gilgamesh?” said Hannibal as he looked at the pair of tickets in Will’s hands. They were having dinner at Hannibal’s house. Hannibal was serving lamb in a coconut curry flavored with lemongrass with a side of saffron-tinged basmati rice. 

“It’s a new opera that‘s just premiered. It’s been getting good reviews,” said Will.

“What is it about?” Hannibal knew but wanted to hear what Will had to say about it.

“It’s about this semi-divine king who believes that he’s better than everyone else and treats everyone abominably until the gods send him Enkidu, a wild man who is his equal. They go through some adventures together before Enkidu is cursed to die. Shaken by his death, Gilgamesh goes off in search of immortality.”

“Does he find it?”

“He almost has it in his grasp but no, he’s fated to die like any mortal. He goes home and becomes a better king. The way he gets his immortality is by becoming an epic hero. If you don’t want to go . . .”

“No, I find it very interesting. I’m just surprised you like opera.”

“I . . . Actually, I’ve never gone to one. I just recognize some of the music you play while driving, so I figured you‘d like it.”

Hannibal smiled. “That’s so thoughtful of you. I’d love to go.”

Will ducked his head and smiled. “I don’t know much about it so I don’t think we’ll be able to talk about it much other afterwards.”

“Nonsense, your thoughts are always interesting to me.”

***  
“Why . . . Why are you crying?” said Will as they walked out of the opera house toward the parking garage a few blocks away.

“I was just thinking about what would be worse than watching the person most precious to you die then failing to achieve physical immortality.”

“What?”

“Losing the one you love then being unable to join him in death.” Hannibal took a handkerchief and dabbed his tears dry before putting it back in his jacket‘s breast pocket. 

Will reached out and took his hand in his. “The opera affected you that much?”

Hannibal sighed. “While the singers and the symphony were actually good, the score and the libretto coherent and compelling, the staging was subpar, especially Enkidu and Gilgamesh’s fight with the Bull of Heaven.”

“It’s not like they could bring on a real bull for Gugalanna, the Bull of Heaven.”

“But the puppet was not as convincing as the horse puppet done for the play War Horse. That was much better done. I am willing to indulge any production with a generous suspension of belief but a stronger attempt should have been made as not to tax my patience.”

“That scene wasn’t the greatest but the relationship between Gilgamesh and Enkidu rang true.”

“Agreed,” said Hannibal. “That made it worthwhile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are operas about Gilgamesh but I prefer this to be a brand new one since I never hear about the ones already existing being performed. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqbWEonptVo is an example of the level of puppetry Hannibal finds lacking in the opera. 
> 
> Wendy is male!Freddie's girlfriend in the The Red Dragon book. 
> 
> As for how Hannibal's body currently looks and is currently dressed, I think something like this is close to what I have in mind: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gJGRMM8fFI
> 
> As for how long Hannibal can possess someone, it really depends on the state of consciousness of the body. A comatose body is basically indefinitely. An awake & unwilling body with a strong personality would a short time, basically like what occurred with Freddie. A drugged body can be for hours. The amount of exertion would be key for a sleeping person. A short walk or doing a google search would probably be doable.


	7. Chapter 7

“Aren’t you going to come in for a nightcap?” said Hannibal as they stood on his porch. “I even got a set of pajamas for you.”

“Will I be needing them?” said Will.

“I doubt it. I’ve got your favorite whiskey.”

“You really know how to charm someone.”

“Is it working?”

“Yes,” said Will, “It is.”

Even now, Hannibal found seeing Will smile sweetly and sincerely at him to be something that made him feel an intense nostalgia and longing even though they easily came to him in the present. Hannibal opened the door and stepped in. Will stepped in after him and shut the door. Will was about to loosen his tie when Hannibal said, “How about you keep it on?”

“Keep it on?”

“Your clothes. I‘ll pay for the dry cleaning. Lie down on the couch, I‘ll get us both a glass.”

As Hannibal put ice in each glass and poured the whiskey, he glanced into the living room. Will was lying down on the couch with his head on top of a cushion, looking curious but amused. Hannibal handed him a glass. After they both took a couple sips, Hannibal put their glasses down on the coffee table and knelt next to the couch to kiss Will, his fingers caressing Will‘s hair. He unbuttoned Will’s pants, pulled down his zipper and said, “I see you’re wearing the silk boxers I bought you.”

“I thought you’d like to see me wearing them. I really like how they feel.”

“I hope you like how this feels.” Hannibal reached in and gently pulled out Will’s cock, that was already half-hard. He bent down and kissed the tip before flicking his tongue around the head before finally sliding his lips down its length. He had always found Will’s cock a thing of beauty, not only in its length and girth but also the texture and his scent. His tongue slathering every inch with devotional attention, he toyed with the thick dark hair growing in curls near the base. He had always been greedy for Will in the same way a dragon hoards treasure: possessive, loving to bask in its presence and never being satisfied. 

He paused to look at Will’s face and was gratified to see that his eyes were closed, his lips parted in pleasure, a flush on his face from arousal and intoxication. He continued his ministrations, every slide of his lips down the shaft and every twirl of the tongue around the head an act of adoration. He carefully put his hands on top of Will’s hips to keep Will from thrusting suddenly into his mouth. 

“I’m . . . I’m . . .’ Will moaned. 

Knowing that Will was trying to warn him that he was about to come, Hannibal moved his lips so they just encircled the head and Will came on the tip of his tongue. He let go of Will’s dick with a wet sound and savored the feel and taste of the emission. He loved everything about Will, even that.

“So good . . . So tired . . .” Will looked thoroughly debauched and satiated with his hair wild and suit rumpled, a modern Dionysus.

“It’s just a few steps to bed . . .” Hannibal said as he gently put Will’s spent, soft cock back into his pants.

“But I haven’t . . .” 

“You can return the favor in the morning.”

***  
“I would love to do the tango after we master the waltz,” said Hannibal as they danced in the studio under the approving eye of their dance instructor. He had paid for private lessons, partly because he wanted the undivided attention of the instructor but also because he wanted the undivided attention of his partner. 

“I would find it a little complicated,” said Will. “I am having to concentrate just to do the box step for the waltz.”

“You are underestimating yourself. Your footwork is good and your timing excellent.”

“Did you do this . . . before?”

“I don’t think I was taught formally. It seems I went to a lot of parties so maybe I picked up a few moves here and there.”

“So, muscle memory.”

“Something like that. I was wondering if you come over to my house for dinner during the week. You could come every weekday.”

“I couldn’t ask you to cook every day. . .”

“I don’t mind. Promise you will come on Monday.”

“OK but every dinner doesn‘t have to be a major production.”

*** 

After returned home from the dance studio, Hannibal had walked into the door and was feeling rather pleased with himself. He was going to play Gilgamesh and Enkidu’s duet on his stereo when the phone rang. 

“Hello?” said Hannibal once he picked up the phone. 

“Hello, Tom, it’s Uncle Henry.”

“Hello, uncle.” Other than a few routine e-mails, this was the first time he had tried to contact Hannibal since the end of his rehabilitation.

“I’ve been hearing from my business friends in the area that you have a boyfriend.”

“That is so. Are you angry that I have not introduced you to him as of yet?” Hannibal knew that the former owner of his body and the man did not have the closest of relationship though the uncle had been honorable in his own way. 

“That’s not what is worrying me. Do you know who you are dating?”

“I don’t know what you mean by that. Will has told me that he is an ex-cop and a current owner of a shop for anglers.”

“While that much is true, there may be many things he hasn’t told you. I had a man do some research on him.”

“That is none of your business.” Hannibal did not have to pretend to be angry and disgusted at Henry’s actions.

“You’re worth over four hundred million dollars. You can never be too careful.”

“What did you find?”

“I’m sending you the report by overnight mail. The man’s not Will Smith. He’s Will Graham, does that ring a bell?”

“No, I can’t say that it does.”

“He is an ex-cop but he also went on to work with the FBI. He profiled serial killers, one of them was especially infamous. Hannibal the Cannibal. There was a lot of rumors about that one.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“That he had some sort of weird relationship with him, maybe even sexual. Maybe even was an accomplice in some of the murders.”

His private investigator must have taken Freddie‘s writing on Tattlecrime.com without the requisite amount of salt, Hannibal thought. “I don’t see how any of it can be true since he’s not in jail.”

“Rumor has it that he got set up and left for dead by his boyfriend, who ditched him for Europe with some blond hottie. He didn’t like that so he worked with the FBI to get him the old injection.”

“Is the entire report just a compendium of gossip and worthless speculation?” He wanted to say something very cutting and vicious but he had no desire to goad him into flying over and talking to him personally. 

“Just read the damn report. He was married once before and that ended up screwed up too . . .”

Hannibal hung up on the man before it became too tempting to possess the man and make him stab himself a dozen times. Still, there was a small silver lining in that it would be a way of forcing Will to speak the truths Hannibal already knew without seeming like he himself was prying. 

***  
“I was thinking . . . Why don’t you move in with me?” said Hannibal as he brought out the cinnamon rolls. 

“I . . .” Will looked surprised and then sad.

This rather puzzled Hannibal. “You wouldn’t have to give up your houseboat. While I have a garden, I could fence it off and let a pet have the rest of the backyard.” He felt disappointed that didn’t seem to lift Will’s spirits. “You don’t want to . . .”

“I would love to move in with you but . . . You should know who you’re inviting in.”

“You told me that you were once a cop.”

“That’s true.”

“You’re not still married, are you?”

“Oh, no. I was married once but I haven‘t talked to her in years. You‘re the first real relationship I‘ve had since the divorce.”

Hannibal realized that Will was going to spend a lot of time trying to push himself to tell the entire truth and as much entertainment he got from Will squirming, he also knew that the more Will squirmed, the less likely it would be for Will to agree to move in with him. He decided to cut to the chase. “My uncle had you investigated and had the gall to send me a report.”

“What?”

“I did not ask him to do this and when I found out, I told him that I did not appreciate it. I haven’t even read it.”

“Read it.”

“Will?”

“You should read it. I should’ve told you everything about me but I was afraid . . . These past months have been like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from . . . But I guess you always have to open your eyes in the end.” Will sounded tired and defeated.

Hannibal went to his home office and took the report from his desk. He went back to the kitchen table, opened the report and made a pretense of thoroughly reading it for the first time. “You were born in Louisiana, became a cop, later became a profiler. You outwitted Hannibal Lecter. You married then divorced. There are some snippy derogatory remarks that seem to be made by anonymous and characters of an unsavory nature but I don‘t take them seriously.”

“She divorced me because my work followed me home and nearly killed her son. I had no right to contest it. If she didn’t contribute to the report, it means that she’s doing her best to forget me and all I can say is good for her. I no longer work for the FBI because I couldn’t go through that again, putting someone innocent through that. I wouldn’t have struck up a relationship with you if I was still working with them. i just wanted a clean slate, a way of becoming whole. You must hate me for keeping you from this for so long.”

“Do I look like I hate you?”

“You should. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t run from me when everybody else has.”

“Because, my dearest treasure, I’m not like everybody else.”

Will’s eyes shined with tears like that night when everything had gone so horribly wrong. This time, he approached not with a knife but with a spatula with a hot pastry on top of it. “Don’t let it grow cold.”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering what the body Hannibal is using looks like, I went for a young Viggo Mortensen: http://viggo-online.com/gallery/displayimage.php?album=61&pid=2412#top_display_media They don't look the same but I saw a certain likeness.


End file.
